That e'er my captain fought on foot, You two be earls," said Witherington, "And I a squire alone : I'll do the best that do I may, His host he parted had in three, Throughout the English archery And throwing straight their bows away, They closed full fast on every side, In truth! it was a grief to see How each one chose his spear, And how the blood out of their breasts Did gush like water clear. At last these two stout earls did meet, Like lions wode, they laid on lode, That e'er my captain fought on foot, You two be earls," said Witherington, "And I a squire alone : I'll do the best that do I may, Yet stays Earl Douglas on the bent, His host he parted had in three, Throughout the English archery And throwing straight their bows away, In truth! it was a grief to see How each one chose his spear, And how the blood out of their breasts At last these two stout earls did meet, They fought until they both did sweat, "Yield thee, Lord Percy," Douglas said; By James, our Scottish king: Thy ransom I will freely give, Thou art the most courageous knight "No, Douglas," saith Earl Percy then, "Thy proffer I do scorn; I will not yield to any Scot That ever yet was born." With that there came an arrow keen Which struck Earl Douglas to the heart, Who never spake more words than these"Fight on, my merry men all; For why my life is at an end; Lord Percy sees my fall." Then leaving life, Earl Percy took In truth! my very heart doth bleed A knight amongst the Scots there was, Who straight in wrath did vow revenge Sir Hugh Mountgomery was he called, Ran fiercely through the fight; And past the English archers all, And through Earl Percy's body then With such vehement force and might The staff ran through the other side THE following Ballad probably refers to the fate of the Scottish nobles on their return from Norway after having, in 1281, conveyed Margaret, daughter of Alexander III., to her nuptials with King Eric of Norway. It is supposed to have been written in the fifteenth century, author unknown. THE BALLAD OF SIR PATRICK SPENS. THE King sits in Dunfermline toun, "O whaur shall I get a skeely skipper, Then up and spake an eldern knight, The King has written a braid letter, "To Noroway, to Noroway, To Noroway o'er the faem; |